Now, if poor Pilgrims they had been, And had lodged in the Hospice instead of the Inu, Why then you never would have heard, For the Innkeepers they had a daughter, As Potiphar's daughter, I think, would have been This wicked woman to our Pierre And, because she fail'd to win his love, So she pack'd up a silver cup And then, as soon as they were gone, The Pilgrims were overtaken, The people gather'd round, Their wallets were search'd, and in Pierre's They dragg'd him before the Alcayde; "The theft," he said, "was plain and proved, So to the gallows our poor Pierre 1 If I should now relate The piteous lamentation, Which for their son these parents made, My little friends, I am afraid But Pierre in Santiago still His constant faith profess'd; When to the gallows he was led, "'T was a short way to Heaven," he said, "Though not the pleasantest." And from their pilgrimage he charged His parents not to cease, Saying that unless they promised this, He could not be hang'd in peace. They promised it with heavy hearts; Pierre then, therewith content, Was hang'd: and they upon their way To Compostella went. THE LEGEND. PART II. FOUR weeks they travell'd painfully, The Mother would not be withheld, But go she must to see Where her poor Pierre was left to hang Upon the gallows tree. Oh tale most marvellous to hear, Eight weeks had he been hanging there, "Mother," said he, "I am glad you 're return'd, It is time I should now be released: Though I cannot complain that I'm tired, And my neck does not ache in the least. "The Sun has not scorch'd me by day, The Moon has not chill'd me by night; And the winds have but help'd me to swing, As if in a dream of delight. "Go you to the Alcayde, Now, you must know the Alcayde, His knife was raised to carve, In came the Mother wild with joy; But that most hasty Judge unjust Repell'd her in his pride. "Think not," quoth he, "to tales like this And pointing to the Fowls, o'er which "As easily might I believe These birds should come to life!" The good Saint would not let him thus The Cock would have crow'd if he could; And they both slipt about in the gravy And when each would have open'd its eyes, All this was to them a great wonder; They stagger'd and reel'd on the table; And either to guess where they were, Or what was their plight, or how they came there, Alas! they were wholly unable: |